


Part Of Their World

by WondrousWendy



Series: Wendy's Kinktober Pieces [9]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Blending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grumpy Onyxia, Identity Issues, Masks, Masquerade Ball, Pre-World of Warcraft, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 19:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20971769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WondrousWendy/pseuds/WondrousWendy
Summary: At Prince Anduin's birthday party, Onyxia--Katrana Prestor--toes the line between the two sides of herself and must contend between her duties as the daughter of Neltharion and her desires as Lady Katrana Prestor.Day Nine -- Masks/Costumes





	Part Of Their World

**Author's Note:**

> So I admit this is a pairing I've been fond of for a long time, harking back to the days of Vanilla WoW. I think Bolvar and Katrana have an interesting dynamic, and I wanted to explore my take on it here!

Pleasant music fills the hall of the keep where Prince Anduin’s birthday is being held. Elegant decorations have been hung featuring the typical motifs of the Alliance—lions, indigo blue, and glittering gold. Bolvar was the one who suggested the young king have a masquerade ball for his birthday, and Anduin obliged, if somewhat despondently. 

Onyxia stands on the outskirts of the party wearing a long, form-fitting black dress with ruby gems embedded in the bodice of the gown. To blend in with the party, she wears a crimson mask that enhances the amber color of her eyes. Standing against one of the keep’s pillars, she nurses a glass of red wine which she occasionally sips at knowing well it will never make her drunk, let alone tipsy. 

The party is a huge inconvenience—there are several other things she would rather do, including not being here in the first place. Onyxia had no desire to attend, but Katrana Prestor, her human disguise, had no choice but to appear as a member of the Council of Nobles. Her presence was expected, and it was her duty to maintain her own personal masquerade—at her father Neltharion’s wishes. 

Some attendees came dressed in a variety of costumes. Onyxia doesn’t understand humanity, but she can relate to the concept of wearing a mask, of donning a disguise. Pretending to be something one isn’t. Yet, while the humans of Stormwind had the luxury to play pretend, Onyxia was forced to live as a human to pursue her father’s and brother’s goals. They never asked if she wanted this, this was simply her duty to protect the remains of her dragonflight. 

In the lowest moments of her time as Katrana Prestor, she has wondered what it would be like to truly be one of them—a simple, boring human. 

You can never cross the divide and become part of their world, the harsh voice of her brother reminds her. They will never accept you. They would sooner chop off your head and hang it for all to see than let you live among them. 

A voice from behind her intrudes upon her dour thoughts. 

“My lady, may I have this dance?” 

Onyxia knows who’s addressing her before she even looks behind her. No flimsy paper mask could hide him from her, even without the aid of magic. Bolvar Fordragon has a voice that simultaneously gets on her nerves and makes her dizzy with lust at the same time. 

Of all the humans she has had the displeasure of being forced into contact with, Bolvar Fordragon has become the exception. There is something about him that sets her blood on fire, makes her head spin, and blurs the lines between where Katrana Prestor ends and where Onyxia begins. Against her better judgment, she has fallen into an affair with him. At night, he sneaks away from his work and his duties and comes to her, heart on his sleeve, and he makes her feel alive, desired, and needed. He’s a sentimental man, doting on her by with surprise gifts of flowers and treats to elicit the rarest of smiles from her. It’s absolutely... annoying what he does to her, but she hasn’t yet tossed him aside. 

With a soft sigh, Onyxia glances over her shoulder and sees him standing there dressed in blue and gold formalwear. He presents himself like a typical human gentleman, head bowed, hand outstretched, with a hopeful glint in his light blue eyes. He dons a mask like everyone else attending this party, noble, guard, or otherwise. His, however, seems to have been hand-made, with painted gold flecks around the rim. He has a rather foolish smile upon his face, and someone apparently reminded him to run a comb through his brown hair for once. 

“No,” she says simply. 

Despite his hopeful demeanor, Bolvar deflates with her response. He draws back his hand and scratches the back of his neck. Did he really think she would agree? Their relationship is private. Humans truly are gullible and naive, especially this hopeless one. 

When Bolvar regains his senses, he coughs to clear his throat and stands up straight. “I... uh... Alright.” 

He comes around to her side, his hands clasped behind him as they both watch attendees dance in the hall. He stands beside her, awkwardly silent to the point in which Onyxia can practically feel it radiate off of him, reeking with disappointment and uncertainty. 

“Katrana...” Bolvar starts carefully, his attention shifting away from the party to look at her. “I guess I should apologize. I’m sorry if I overstepped. I know you prefer keeping things between us.” 

So now the human thinks supplication will get him somewhere. Onyxia wonders if he would apologize to her if he knew what she was, what she had done. Katrana, the cold and harsh noble from Alterac that everyone fears, recognizes an opportunity to handle a pest before it becomes a bigger problem.

“Now you see why I refused your offer,” she says with a sneer. She waves him off. “You are always stepping on the toes of others. You would make a horrible dance partner.” 

Katrana moves to walk away, but Bolvar stops her with a gentle hand upon her arm. 

He seems taken aback by her comment, but instead of growing angry, as he should, he appears sad, remorseful. 

“Is that how you feel about me? Katrana—Lady Prestor—I never meant to offend you, and if I have ever done so in the past, please forgive me.” 

Bolvar pushes up his mask so that it rests on his forehead, as if to prove who he is to her, and he takes her hand into his own. 

“I... I simply thought perhaps we could partake in the night’s merriment. I promise I will not step on your toes, I actually was trained by my mother in the art of dancing.” 

There it is again—the heart on Fordragon’s sleeve. Katrana can imagine him as a small boy, dancing with his mother, who she knows is deceased. His family is a sensitive subject. He lost so much in Lordaeron. 

Katrana’s gaze falls past Bolvar to the pairs of couples moving in a blur across the hall to the music. Dragons had no use for dancing—what a silly thought, indeed. She never learned. This human body she crafted for herself, it’s lanky, heavy in places. Pretending to be a noble, but she was a noble who didn’t know how to dance. Would she join them, if she knew how? Would she try? Or would she merely be deluding herself. Perhaps the spell would be broken if she dared try. 

Yet, a part of her wants to know what it would be like. Hand in hand with Bolvar, being whisked away, swept up into his arms, moving as one unit across a ballroom’s hall, staring into his eyes and... 

“If you don’t know, I could teach you.” 

Clever Bolvar, knowing her well enough to recognize when she can’t admit a weakness. 

“If you would like to dance, we can,” she says finally, her human stomach tying into knots. “Not here, however.” 

Onyxia, Katrana, she doesn’t want eyes on her other than his. Bolvar seeing her like this is enough. More would be humiliating. 

Bolvar lights up immediately like some kind of dog that has been promised a treat. He pulls her along, and she lets herself be guided to a private space where she can be neither Onyxia nor Katrana. She can be something in the middle, something she can’t name aloud. She can be his and his alone, part of his world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you would like to see the full list of prompts for the entire month of Kinktober, please check out my [twitter! ](https://twitter.com/W0ndrousWendy) I will be writing for a handful of pairings from various fandoms, and my aim is to give some love to rarepairs and to my OCs! Stay tuned for more!


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